


Cry Pretty

by chewysugar



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Crying, Crying Dean, Dark fic, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Mutual Masturbation, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internal Monologue, M/M, Sam’s POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 15:29:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13079856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewysugar/pseuds/chewysugar
Summary: Sam knows it’s messed up, but he really loves the way his brother cries.





	Cry Pretty

Remember when you made me cry? All those times when I was a little kid and you would say something to break my already broken heart? If it wasn’t that, you’d hurt me physically. You’d punch me in the nose or the ribs and then tell Dad that it was just rough housing. That I was being a baby. Baby turned to pussy when I got older, remember? “Sam’s just being a little pussy.”

How’d it make you feel?

The number of times you’ve gone to pieces in front of me or because of me...I’d say you were projecting. Who knew, huh? Macho badass Dean Winchester is just a puff pastry on the inside. Hit him and he bleeds; take his heart and soul, he weeps.

I’ve seen you break before. I heard you when the knife split my spine, screaming my name to the heavens that don’t care. And you know what? It helped. It eased the pain. My big brother cried for me. There was something in the world that could actually crack that perfect granite.

Cry for me, Dean. Cry for yourself. Just cry. Let it out. The Magnum is in the other hand now, so to speak. Don’t we have fun, my brother? Hurting all the day live-long? I’ll do the bleeding and you do the crying.

It’s sick, isn’t it? Then again, neither of us is in the forerunning for stable. It’s just that the memories are there—all that trauma piled up, and right at the core is me crying all the time. I hate to see you cry as much as I love it. It’s poetic justice, only justice is so blind because I can’t live with feeling satisfied to see your tears. Call me a monster these days and...well, we both know how that ended.

You only ever let the people you love see it though. That’s enough to heal these wounds I scrape into myself every time I feel that little twinge of pleasure at your tears. You love me, Dean. I love you. Love is providing and nurturing, like water. And like water, it can drown you and carry you under and away in its current.

I know that you know what that’s like. You’ve had more real loves than I have. Sure you get laid more, but you’ve fallen in love with more women. Women who are still alive. Me? I just fuck them and wait. Wait for them to drop. I can’t help it. You’d think I’d keep my johnson to myself after all the women who’ve died after making his acquaintance.

Its just that sometimes I feel like there’s a devil in my dick. I need to release the demon in me somehow—all that leftover taint from Azazel and Lucifer. The best way is to exorcise it through my cum. Beating off works wonders, but there’s nothing like flesh to have me throw myself over the edge.

But you? You care for the ones you take to bed. You’ve cried in front of Cassie and Lisa. Cas told me all about how you couldn’t even let Lisa suck your cock without tears coming to your eyes. Were you thinking of him? Of your angel? Or were you thinking me, down there in the Cage, being fucked every way imaginable? I cried then. He made sure of it.

I look at you and see my hero; my brother; my soulmate. The one who taught me to throw a football and change a tire; the one who taught me how to shotgun a beer; the one who taught me how to jerk off and how to go down on girls and give killer head to guys. I want to protect you as much as you want to protect me; I want to do right by you; I want to see you smile. But sometimes I look at you and think about making you cry. It’s a dark impulse, and I won’t ever act on it—I’ll never let the tether on that hellhound loose. I want you to cry, I think, because I want to be the one to make it all better.

Despite all the wounds I have from childhood, I know I’m coloring in the past with too much black. Whenever I really cried, you were there. Whenever I really hurt, it was you who brushed the tears back, kissed my forehead and showed me how to smile again. I want to do that for you.

But only if you cry for me first.

**Author's Note:**

> Do let me know what you think. I love comments ever so.


End file.
